Daughter of the Moon (The Moon People, Book Two)

by Claudia King

  "It was all a trick," Netya gasped.

  "Once you understand how a magic is made, it loses much of its potency to strike awe," Adel said, reaching down to palm a handful of sticky red powder from an open pouch beside her. "Though this one I am still proud of." She cast the powder into the fire suddenly, and Netya flinched back as it erupted in a rush of purple flame. "You recall the red rocks in the caves near the top of the valley?"

  Netya nodded.

  "Their dust burns with this colour, and with a mix of the correct oils it can be made to flare up."

  "The den mother spent many nights preparing it before we departed," Ura said.

  Netya edged closer, gazing into the fire as the violet glow burned itself out. "So all of us could learn to make this magic?"

  "Yes. Though we must master many more tricks if we are to keep the alphas in awe of us in the years to come," Adel said. "I do not know how to call upon dark spirits or lay curses upon others, nor would I wish to. But if we can conjure other magics, perform feats that have never been seen before, then the other packs will believe us capable of anything. That power will keep our pack safer than a hundred warriors."

  "But if we are feared, who will lend us their aid?" Netya said.

  "We shall soon see. I did not come here to win only enemies. The other packs must know that our power can be used for good as well as ill. Tomorrow night when the alphas meet I shall make an offer to train any young seers who wish to learn from us. The more bonds we can make, the stronger our standing will become." Adel winced as Ura pried free another large piece of resin. "And the celebration of the summer fires falls in just a few days time. You, Fern, Selo, and Caspian will be well suited to winning the affection of the others there."

  Netya hesitated. After her disagreement with Caspian, she was not sure how enthusiastic she felt about using her female charms to win over potential allies. Her concern must have been evident on her face, for Adel quickly shot her a weary look.

  "It is a festival of joy and pleasure, girl. I am not asking you to walk the coals of a fire for me."

  Netya bowed her head with a flush of shame. Her mentor had a habit of making her painfully aware of every youthful, foolish, self-serving thought that entered into her head. "Of course, Den Mother. I will attend, if that is what you wish."

  "It is. Cast your spell upon the men who desire you, make them believe they have been ensnared by a witch, and leave them in awe of your talents. You and Fern are well versed in such things, are you not?"

  "She more than I," Netya admitted. "But yes, I have learned a lot from her."

  "Selo can catch the eye of many a man, but I fear she has shared the furs of precious few. The two of you should share what you know with her before the night of the celebration."

  "And... Caspian?" Netya ventured to ask.

  "He draws the affection of females like moths to a flame, but women hold little power among the other packs," Adel said, eyeing the fire in contemplation. "Still, there is one I would gladly pair him with. And if not her, then perhaps he will catch the eye of some den mother or high huntress." Her tone softened slightly as she looked to her apprentice once more. "I understand you would rather spend the night with him, but we came to this gathering to win a place for ourselves. Oh, Netya," she sighed, "there is so much for us to do, so much for me to teach you, and I wish there were kinder days for it. But this coming celebration will be your chance to learn another lesson, so treat it as such. You began to understand it in your time as Khelt's consort, did you not? For all the power the men of our people hold, there are still many of them whose weakness lies in their affection for a fair young face. A woman who can slide her way into an alpha's furs may be able to make him hear things that even his most trusted advisors cannot."

  "I understand, Den Mother," Netya said.

  "Be sure you do, for it may one day make the difference between life and death. These are the means we must rely on now if we are to survive as a pack." Adel lowered her foot and settled it in a bowl of water as Ura pried the final piece of resin free, letting out a long breath to mask what Netya suspected was a shudder of pain. "Go now. I must rest before tomorrow night's meeting. Ura will be here to tend me."

  "You should not walk again so soon," the older seer said. "Burned flesh needs time to heal."

  "Then find me some herbs to dull the pain tomorrow," Adel replied irritably. "I should think the other seers will be more than willing to trade their remedies with us now."

  It was with much upon her mind that Netya crept out of the den mother's tent, wondering at what might happen in the days to come, how she, too, might learn the power of the coloured flames that Adel had concocted, and whether she would be able to become the seductress she needed to be on the upcoming night of the celebration. As was often the case following her conversations with her mentor, she felt as though the world had become clearer, and yet colder to her in some ways. Where once she might have flowed from one day to the next like a leaf in a river, accepting what her eyes told her and allowing the world to drag her along in its current, she now felt keenly aware of her capability to tug that leaf in whichever direction she wanted. Tricks of magic. Tricks of romance. Were these the things that now shaped her life, rather than the invisible pull of her heart?

  Perhaps they were, and perhaps they were only what was necessary in a world that had been ready to pounce on her like a morsel of prey that very morning. Still, she longed for the comforting warmth of settling into her furs with a pair of strong arms around her. When she had been Khelt's concubine there had been little to worry about save her duties to the alpha. And Caspian made her feel strong, as though there was no need to choose between blind subservience and striking out on her own path. He helped to balance her, with his kind wisdom, his understanding, and his confidence to take charge when she needed it...

  A painful breath of cool night air filled her lungs as she crept quietly down the hill, seeking out her man among the others. She was so sorry for their disagreement the previous night. She wanted to forget it had ever happened, curl back up in his embrace and feel his comforting kisses on her skin, the kisses of a man who controlled her when her heart ran wild and nurtured her when she was ready to bloom.

  Caspian's back was still turned to the others, the lone male seated in the same place he had been before. He was gazing out over the gathering with his knee crooked and a hand beneath his chin.

  "Might I join you?" Netya asked.

  He glanced up with a distracted smile, snapping out of whatever reverie had absorbed him. "Of course. Forgive me, there is much on my mind."

  "Mine too," Netya said as she tucked her wolf pelt beneath her and sat down, but she hesitated to lean up against Caspian in the way she usually did. "It is the night of the summer fires soon," she added anxiously.

  "Mm. I had almost forgotten."

  "Adel wants us to attend. Fern and Selo, too."

  "Does she." Caspian seemed unsurprised. "And what do you want?"

  "We must do as she asks, for the sake of the pack, must we not?"

  Caspian nodded, but his voice was blank. "It seems wise."

  Netya nudged him impatiently. She needed more than his detached affirmations of what she already knew. "But what do you think?"

  "What would you have me say, Netya? That it would be better we spend the night together by ourselves? That all will return to the way it once was soon? That I was foolish to fight Karel and that I shall never worry you in such a way again?" He shook his head. "We are part of Adel's pack now, and this is what it makes of us."

  Netya frowned. "Adel did not ask you to run off and pick fights."

  "You know what I mean."

  "No, I do not! She has done so much for us. All she does is for us."

  "But is it enough, Netya?" He gave her a thoughtful look. If he was growing as frustrated with her as she was with him, it was not mirrored in his expression. "You know none of this would have befallen us if we remained with Khelt's pack."

&
nbsp; "Are you saying you would rather go back?" Netya swallowed the growing lump in her throat, wondering just what Caspian and his old friend had spoken of the previous night.

  "I am saying nothing. I only want you to think on it. Is this the life you wished for when you agreed to follow the den mother? Being preyed upon by the other packs? Learning the tricks of witches? Striking fear into your fellow kin just to survive?" He rubbed his chin, looking back in the direction of the central fires. "What Adel did tonight... She is either the boldest and most cunning of our kind to ever live, or she is walking down a path of madness."

  "I do not want to hear you say such things," Netya said. "I trust her, and you should too."

  Finally a prickle of impatience appeared to work its way into Caspian's calm demeanour. "So much that you no longer think think for yourself? I am not asking you to abandon her, Netya, but consider your other choices. There are other lives you could live. Safer ones. Perhaps happier ones."

  "Back with Khelt, you mean," she pouted.

  "Do not say his name like that!" Caspian threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "I only ask that you consider it."

  I do not want to consider it, Netya thought as tears began to prickle the corners of her eyes. I want you to tell me what it is I should do. I want you there to balance me again.

  "If you would rather be with Khelt, then go back to him," she stammered out before she could help herself.

  "Netya, stop this—" He reached out for her, but she flinched away.

  "No." She shook her head, suddenly painfully aware that the persistent niggle scratching the back of her neck had crept all the way up into her skull, pressing at the back of her eyes. She tried to push her wolf down along with the swell of aching emotions tightening in her chest, hating how Caspian had almost dragged the beast to the surface. At the last moment she turned her head away before the angry tears started spilling down her cheeks.

  He did not call after her as she hurried away.

  She had needed him that night. Not his questions, not his thoughts, not his ideas on how things should and should not be. And especially not those that made her question her loyalty to Adel. All she wanted was to be reassured, to be made to feel like all was well. She wanted to curl up safely in the refuge of their love. Instead, she had been made to feel even more uncertain than ever.

  —18—

  Fern's Guidance

  "Netya looks unwell," Wren said. It was the morning of the celebration, and the pair of them were sitting together plaiting stalks of tough grass into cords that could be used for weaving or binding. It was a pastime Fern had grown fond of sharing with the young girl, starting first as a distraction to take Wren's mind off the parents she had lost the year prior, then becoming a craft, and finally a routine. Wren had inherited the sharp eyes that had made her father a great hunter, but she put them to better use when weaving rather than stalking animals. Time would tell whether she developed the aptitude of a huntress or not, but Fern suspected the girl would find her true calling as a craftswoman. She already wove better than anyone but Briar, so much so that they had started to fill an empty cave with spare baskets, mats, and bundles of cord back in the valley.

  Fern looked up from her work and brushed her sandy hair from her eyes, following her companion's gaze to where Netya was trudging her way back up the hill. She was laden with bundles in the wake of what looked to have been another fruitful morning of trading with the seers of the other packs, but despite her apparent success her expression was as grey as the clouds circling overhead.

  "She and Caspian have been fighting again," Fern said. "Ever since he challenged Karel."

  "Why do people fight if they love each other?"

  "Don't we fight sometimes?" Fern smiled and gave the girl a nudge.

  "That's different. You are like my sister."

  "I suppose so. You mean why do people fight when they are in love?"

  Wren nodded.

  "Well, I think love is a wonderful dream," Fern continued. "I think if I were in love, I would care more about my love than anything in this world or the next. And if I lost it..." She paused, suddenly uncomfortable at the thought. She hated feeling uncomfortable. It did little good to dwell so much on matters of the heart. "Anyway, love is complicated. You will understand when you grow older."

  "Do you understand?" Wren pried.

  "Ask me again tomorrow." Fern deflected the question with a wink. "The celebration is tonight. Perhaps I shall ensnare a true love of my own by morning."

  Wren's cheeks coloured a little, the girl's attention quickly engrossed by her weaving again.

  That made Fern smile. "In a few years you will be of age, and the celebration will be a night for you as well."

  Wren murmured something under her breath, remaining withdrawn in the way girls her age were apt to when wrestling with the confusing thoughts of an adult trying to make space for themselves in the mind of a child.

  The knowing smile remained on Fern's lips, chasing away the last traces of her discomfort as she latched on to something she was all too familiar with. Was it only two years ago that Netya had been almost as clueless as this young woman?

  "Wren?" It was Fern's turn to pry. "What has gotten you thinking of love?"

  "Nothing." The colour in her cheeks grew stronger.

  "You were gone a long time with Selo yesterday."

  "Only to help her carry things."

  Fern waited patiently. After a few fidgety moments of failed weaving, Wren relented.

  "The children from the other packs are scared of us. Selo said I should go and speak with some of them, but they ran away. They think I am a witch too, like Adel. But on the way back, when I was carrying the fish, one of the boys came and offered to help me." Wren managed to look up with a nervous smile. "He said he was going to hunt with the men later, and he needed a witch's blessing to bring him good fortune."

  "Oh? A brave hunter, was he?" She gave Wren a look of admiration. Children were often allowed to join hunts from a young age, but only to watch from a safe distance and study the craft of their elders. Still, that did not stop the boys from sharing in the boasts of the older men when they returned.

  "He said he would bring back a trophy for me. His alpha told him that witches must be revered and protected, or else great misfortune will come upon all those they have ever laid eyes on."

  "Great misfortune certainly comes upon those who anger Adel," Fern said with a wry smile. "He sounds very wise. Perhaps you can reward him with a kiss if he does bring back a trophy for you."

  Wren frowned. "He asked for a blessing."

  "I think a kiss from you will be all the blessing he desires. And he will remember it the next time you meet at the gathering."

  "That will not be for so many years," Wren sighed. "Do you think he might come with us? The den mother said we should try and persuade more men to join our pack."

  "I think she meant men, not boys. But it will not be so long! Think, by the time the next gathering falls you will have grown into a beautiful young woman, perhaps with a calling of your own! You could be an apprentice to Briar, or a huntress with me."

  Wren pulled a face, poking a piece of grass through the loop she had made. "I suppose so."

  "You are certainly getting the moods of a young woman." Fern rolled her eyes, looking back to Netya as her friend walked past their fire. "Netya, help me!" She tugged on the edge of the other woman's cloak. "Come and tell Wren that she will find wonderful happiness and the love of many young men at the next gathering!"

  "Not now, Fern, I must bring these to the den mother—" she began to protest, but the huntress stubbornly refused to let go.

  "She has waited all year for new herbs, she can wait a little longer. Come, you cannot let your spirits be so low at a time like this. It is the day of the celebration!"

  Netya relented, easing her bundles down and coming to sit beside Fern. "Is there much to celebrate?"

  "Of course! We are alive, are we not? We a
re free, we have made a place for ourselves among the packs, and tonight we shall play as witches, winning their love and calling them to our furs!" She draped herself over her friend's shoulder in an exaggeratedly sensual manner, trying to coax Netya out of her gloom. "We missed the celebration last year, but do you not remember the time when you first joined us? With Erech and Jale?"

  A hint of fondness came into Netya's expression, and she nodded. "It was nice."

  "More than nice. The spirits bless us when the summer fires burn high, and we honour them with our pleasure. If there is a night to forget our troubles, it is this one. I think we all need such a night." She smirked. "Especially those of us who have not felt a man in many seasons."

  Netya's sullen mood was hard to shake her out of, but if there was one thing Fern had grown skilled at over the years it was chasing away worries and doubts, both in herself and others. Besides which, she had been missing her friend. Back among Khelt's pack they had been free to come and go as they pleased, attending their light duties together without any real urgency getting in the way of their companionship. But Adel, Caspian, and the ever-present burdens of survival had resulted in them spending less time together recently. Now that it was the night of the celebration—a night when all of those things could settle to the back of Netya's mind—Fern was keen to enjoy it with her.

  They pulled Selo into their small group as the evening drew near, but both of the other girls still seemed apprehensive. Fern had gleefully attended many celebrations, sharing her furs with dozens of men and a handful of women, but her companions were considerably less versed in the easygoing charm that came so naturally to her. Netya in particular kept throwing longing glances in Caspian's direction, as bad at keeping her romantic desires to herself as always.

  "If you want to be with him, then be with him," Fern said with a kindly squeeze of her friend's hand. "Love is love, and on the night of the fires you should celebrate it in any way you can."